Soon she saw her ghostly adviser speeding towards her in another guise. A stout rocking-chair was on his shoulder, and skates were dangling from his hand, and she ran to meet him with anticipating delight. A little later, Dan, who had been oblivious of proceedings thus far, was startled by seeing Lottie rush by him, comfortably ensconced in a rocking-chair and propelled by Hemstead's powerful strokes. This was a great change for the better, in his estimation, and he hailed it vociferously. Hemstead good-naturedly put the boy in his sister's lap, and then sent them whirling about the pond with a rapidity that almost took away their breaths. But he carefully shielded them from accidents. "It's strange how you can be so strong, and yet so gentle," said Lottie, gratefully looking up at him over her shoulder. "I haven't the faintest wish to harm you," he replied, smiling. "That I should ever have wished to harm him!" she thought, with a twinge of remorse. After a half-hour of grand sport, the setting sun reminded them that it was time to return. "How do you feel now?" he asked. "My face must be your answer," she said, turning to him features glowing with exercise and happiness. "A beautiful answer," he said impulsively. "In color and brightness it is the reflection of the sunset there." "I admit," she answered shyly, "that its brightness has a western cause. But speaking of color reminds me of something;" and her eyes twinkled most mirthfully as she caught a glimpse of something around his neck. "What have you done with my 'colors,' that I gave you last night? I know you wore them figuratively in your face this morning, when Miss Martell so enchanted you; but where are they, literally? Now a knight is supposed to be very careful of a lady's colors if he accepts them." "I have been; and Miss Martell has never seen your colors." "O, those so manifest this morning were hers. I understand now. But where are mine?" "I cannot tell you. But they are safe." "You threw them away." "Never." "Why, then, can't you tell me where they are?" "Because--because--Well--I can't; so you need not ask me." "If you don't tell me, I'll find out for myself." "You cannot," he said confidently. "Mr. Hemstead, what is that queer crimson fringe rising above your collar?" He put his hand hastily to his neck, and felt the ribbon that his stooping posture and violent exercise had forced into a prominence that defied further concealment; then turned away laughing, and, with his face now vying with the Sunset, said, "You have caught an ostrich hiding with its head in the sand." Her merry laugh trilled like the song of a bird, as she exclaimed. "O guilt, guilt! the western sky is pale compared with thy cheeks." Then, taking his arm in a way that would have won an Michorite, she added with a dainty blending of mischief and meaning, "I, too, am an ostrich to-night,--that is, in my appetite. I am ravenous for supper."